


Unmasking a Fox's Kiss

by NachtGraves, neenya



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AFTG Reverse Big Bang 2019, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Fae, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Raven Neil Josten, References to past canon character death, riko is dead and gone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-11-09 01:14:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17992025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachtGraves/pseuds/NachtGraves, https://archiveofourown.org/users/neenya/pseuds/neenya
Summary: With Wymack and Abby's long overdue engagement, Foxhole Court holds the customary masquerades, two nights of celebration with a backdrop of superstitious nonsense about soulmates. Andrew will take the nights of binge drinking and eating, even if he has to keep an eye on a fox masked annoyance from Evermore Court.





	Unmasking a Fox's Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> I was very excited to write for the RBB, it's the first big fest I took part in and was thrilled to get [Neenya's](http://neenya.tumblr.com) [piece](http://neenya.tumblr.com/post/183275634084)! I hope I managed to do it justice.
> 
> And thank you to [Erin](https://squarelampshade.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing and Gabriella for organizing the fest!
> 
> GG to everyone else in the fest, all the new content to consume :D

The day King Wymack proposed to Abby Winfield, the people of the Foxhole Court settled bets, trading favors, promises, coin, potions, and even clothes, before getting completely blitzed. While other Courts may have had something to say about the king of a Court marrying a mundane human, Foxhole, the Court of rejects, is no stranger to controversy and upsetting the rigid traditionalists that make up the majority of the Fae world. After all that had happened with Kevin Day crawling to Foxhole bloody and broken-winged and the power struggles of Evermore Court between the Moriyamas, there were better things to take issue with than a well-loved human becoming the queen of a Court.

Once hangovers are cured with the help of magic and tonics of questionable colors and taste, Foxhole Court begins preparing for the masquerades. Two nights of celebration, of wine and sweets, of games and dancing, and a chance to find your own soulmate if superstition is to be believed. Andrew doesn’t believe, but he’ll take the days of doing nothing but eating and drinking. Especially since Kevin can’t nag about how much Andrew consumes since it’s his father’s engagement and it’s all but required to celebrate through indulgence.

In a matter of days invitations are penned and sent out to the other Courts. There’s some hesitation about sending one to Evermore but Ichirou Moriyama’s name ends up scrawled on an invitation and sent out to the newly structured Evermore Court. If the new little lord decides to take after his dearly departed brother, Andrew has no issue with silencing an uppity nukekubi. He hadn’t gotten the chance with Riko but maybe his brother will let Andrew enact one of his fantasies of piercing a floating head with a nice, pointy icicle.

With the guests invited and correspondences coming in, all that’s left is food, decorations, and finding masks. Allison takes charge of decorations and Nicky handles catering. Everyone else helps out here and there and it’s a hectic week of preparation before the masquerades are upon them. Andrew just wants them to be over with.

Andrew is woken not by Kevin yelling through his door or Nicky hesitantly knocking and hoping Andrew’s already awake, but by a presence – three presences, one Fae and two witches – at the edge of Foxhole, a disturbance in the wards, requesting entry. Sunset is still some time away and Andrew already knows who the first guests are, technically on time but socially early.

He’d showered in the morning before his nap so he dresses, tugging on nice black jeans, a dark grey button down, a black vest, a black tie, and chunky boots that give him an extra bit of height. Finally, he slips on the simple black domino mask that has a white tear drop as its only embellishment. He fits it over his nose, fixes his hair, and heads to allow the first of the guests in.

To maintain the spirit of the masquerades, the game of seduction and secrecy, guests arrive in masks and the hosting Court greets them masked as well. It won’t be until the following day where masks will be set aside until sunset and the chase of figuring out who is behind a particular mask begins, at least to those taking part in that tradition of the celebration.

Jeremy Knox is easily recognizable, mask of pale and dark golds with spires designed to look like rays of the sun along the edges or not. In fact, his obvious choice in masks is more of a giveaway than had he come mask-less. His two companions are just as easily named, only two women are constantly at the Trojan Sun’s side: Laila Dermott and Sara Alvarez.

Masks do nothing to mute Knox’s sunshine smile nor defrost Andrew’s dead expression.

“Thank you for inviting us. On behalf of Trojan Court, we wish King Wymack and his court endless summer suns,” the sun elf greets. He holds the invitation addressed to Trojan Court’s king, James Rheman.

“Foxhole welcomes you,” Andrew replies with a yawn. The protections bend to allow the Trojans inside and Andrew gestures lazily towards the banquet hall. “You’re early. Someone’ll show you your rooms and the banquet hall.”

That someone is – surprise, surprise – Kevin, who immediately strikes up conversation with Knox, eyes just shy of turning heart-shaped, only just hidden behind his mask of gold and white with etched in feathers that covers a good half of his face.

While Jeremy Knox may appear all sunshine and flowers and smiles, the elf’s a formidable swordsman, sparkly elf magic or not. And everyone knows nothing gives Kevin more of a hard-on than some fancy footwork and forged metal. There’s quite the ever-growing sum on when Kevin will profess his love for the elf and on how not so straight the Foxhole heir is. The pools have seen an increase and new pools created in regards to the masquerades. There’s a good amount going for which day of the masquerades Kevin will succumb to the Trojan Sun.

They walk past the main gardens that Bee, Matt, Aaron, and Katelyn had worked on in preparation for the festivities. With Bee an earth-based witch, and Matt a dryad, the gardens had an extra touch of magic to look fruitful and vibrant, a horticulturist’s dream. Katelyn, as human and mortal as Abby, had strung fairy lights in bushes and trees, along with some paper decorations from _Target_. Aaron had worked on the fountains that lacked the use of natural physics and mechanisms.

The two of them had discovered their own magical abilities later in life, Andrew during the darkest moments that still haunted him and Aaron when he met Andrew, because of Andrew, really. When they met, Andrew was still figuring out his newfound abilities, but he was still able to sense something within Aaron he’d noticed in few others before. It didn’t take long for them to pinpoint Aaron’s affinity to water and what branch of magic he fell under. Even though Andrew’s a sorcerer, a different branch of learned magic, he never strayed far from his long lost twin, his ice isn’t far from his brother’s water .

Andrew dips away not long after Kevin and Knox get into some discussion of a tournament or another and the fighting styles of various Fae. Dermott and Alvarez join the seraph and elf when they start talking about exhibition matches another Court is hosting for the next equinox. Kevin can show them their rooms and keep them entertained until the rest of the guests arrive.

Andrew leaves the sword junkies for a vice of his own. When he steps onto the roof of the largest building in Foxhole, he has a cigarette lit and at his lips. He sits on the raised edge of the roof and casts his gaze over Foxhole, this rooftop with the best view of most of the Court. The sun, already low in the sky, sinks gradually. The closer it gets to the horizon, the more often Andrew feels the wards waver and prickle before bending in allowance by Renee, Aaron, or Bee. Eventually, his cigarette is just a nub and Foxhole is filled with music, laughter, and chatter. Andrew stamps out the dying embers of his cigarette and heads down to the banquet hall. Besides, there was booze to be had even if he had to wade through a bunch of obnoxious Fae.

The biggest single room in Foxhole is the banquet hall that is never used as such. Instead, it’s a training room for magic, swordplay, boxing, and whatever else Foxhole ruffians like to get up to. Unlike other Courts, Foxhole doesn’t exactly hold large public functions and had no use for a room to hold such gatherings until now, and likely whenever Wymack passes the Court to Kevin and whenever they have to hold another set of masquerades for Kevin and his future queen or consort king.

Instead of a sparring ring, Renee and Allison had cleared a space for dancing. Banquet tables topped with assortments of pastries, meats, fruits, candies, and cakes replaced racks of swords, axes, spears, and staffs. Various tables and chair arrangements were set up around the hall, immaculately dressed in white linen and accents of the Foxhole’s blinding orange. At the front of the hall, a half-circle dais had been set up, the only things on it two thrones, one silver and the other gold. The only thing that remained of the training hall was the small portrait of Seth, an orange candle lit with a flame that sustains itself for a year, thanks to Dan.

There’s a bar set up opposite the food and Andrew gets himself a glass of whiskey. As he sips his drink from a corner, Andrew scans the crowd mingling, schmoozing, and dancing. It looks like many of the Courts responded and sent representatives to celebrate Wymack and Abby’s union. Or at least maintain whatever Fae politics they found important. While it’s custom to not divulge your identity at masquerades, it’s not against the rules to try and figure out who’s who and, as Fae are wont to do, it’s often a game of seduction to find a partner and figure out who’s under the mask. Nicky never fails to bring up how Erik courted him before, during, and after a masquerade in Germany, where he’d been introduced to the world of magic and Fae before Aaron, before even Andrew fully understood what was going on in his life, even though Nicky had no magical abilities compared to his cousins other than the ability to see more than the average human due to his proximity to the preternatural.

Many Fae shed their glamors, skins range from human to scales to bark to licks of fire, spanning from shades of red to violet. Wings – feathered, leathery, translucent – claws and beaks, horns and tails, even a few fins. But no raven masks or the uniformed black and red.

“Evermore hasn’t arrived yet.”

Andrew nods and only casts a brief glance at Renee. Her mask matches her hair, white and rainbow-tipped. Her dress, similarly, is billowy white silk and knee-length, belted at her waist and shimmers in rainbow hues depending on the light. No doubt enchanted and from Allison’s closet or via her credit card.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and the bloodsuckers ran into a little accident. Another Moriyama lost his head.” One of the guests catches Andrew’s eyes but quickly looks away. Andrew doesn’t do anything about the sharp curve of his mouth.

Renee makes a disapproving noise but leaves him be, going back into the fray of Fae and related folk.

Knowing that Evermore isn’t here yet, Andrew quickly finds Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin. Nicky he finds on the dance floor dancing between various men from the other Courts, but he’s always near Dan and Matt. Aaron and Katelyn stick together at a table talking to another couple near the hot tub set up for water Fae, Allison lounging with her legs transformed into a purple-blue scaled tail in the water. Kevin does his schmoozing with every Court representative that comes up to him. Renee sits by Allison and Andrew can tell she’s doing the same as him.

As Abby and Wymack are the guests of honor, they won’t appear until the sun has completely set, when the masquerades truly begin. Bee is with Abby as Abby’s Court lady and bodyguard. Healing magic isn’t all about soft words and closing wounds. Some protection spells have some pretty nasty backlash to anyone who has even the slightest bit of malicious intent and Bee knows quite a number of them.

A little before sunset, the hairs on the back of Andrew’s neck stand on end. Two people were at the edge of Foxhole. Both Fae, but only somewhat. One of them magic, something dark. The other, part human, most likely. Knowing that Aaron, Bee, and Renee would have also felt it, Andrew seeks out Renee.

“I’ll go see who our party crashers are,” he tells her.

“I’ll keep an eye on things here,” she replies.

Andrew leaves the banquet, stalking through Foxhole until he comes to where the protections were disturbed. Standing there are two men dressed for the masquerade. The tall one is slightly taller than Kevin, with black hair and pale skin. His mask is of dark grey feathers, as if a raven fell into a bag of flour and didn’t manage to shake it all off. His suit was simple, black and white. The only color on him was the blood red tie, even his eyes, from what Andrew could see through the holes of his mask, were grey.

The other man is just a bit shorter than Andrew with his boots, without them, Andrew would be the shorter one by barely an inch. To his companion’s stone gray, he was fire red. Clearly someone thought he was funny with his fox mask, orange and white, textured to look like fur, stupid little ears protruding from the corners. His hair matched, if a few shades redder and darker. Behind the fox mask a pair of eyes as blue as the ice Andrew controls. Paired with dark pants that hugged every curve, he wore a red and gold-buttoned shirt that tapered at a trim waist, flashy but flattering.

“We apologize for the delay,” the tall one says. “Evermore Court wishes Foxhole Court the night’s blessings.” He holds up an invitation with Ichirou Moriyama’s name on it.

“The new guy couldn’t make it?” Andrew asks. He doesn’t know who the two are from Evermore, but neither of them are Moriyamas.

“Lord Moriyama,” Floured Raven stresses, “had other pressing matters that came up last minute. He sent us to deliver Evermore’s blessings on his behalf.”

“Yeah, I bet there’s quite the mess his brother left for him to clean up. You know, his psychotic, blood-crazed brother that had a whole lot of problems. Wonder if it runs in the family.”

The other man tenses and steps forward, eyes flashing. Floured Raven presses his hand against Fox’s chest and keeps him back. He says something quickly, it sounds like French. And while Fox calms, his mouth curves into a sharp smile. “Unlike Foxhole, Evermore has standards to maintain. And our messes can actually be cleaned up.”

Andrew finds his mouth curving on its own. Sharp as the cold bite of ice.

Floured Raven says something again in French. Rolls his eyes and sounds resigned. Fox’s smile turns from sharp to teasing as he responds in the stupid language Andrew doesn’t know with a familiarity and fluidity of complete fluency.

“Will you allow us inside your Court or not?” Floured Raven asks.

“Foxhole welcomes you,” Andrew responds dryly, sincerely enough that the protections actually bend to allow the two entry. But only just barely. He leads them to the banquet hall in silence while they talk in French behind him. When they enter, few notice their presence save for the Foxes. Andrew meets Renee’s eye and nods. Evermore’s representatives thank Andrew for escorting them and go off in another direction together while Andrew gets more whiskey.

He keeps his eyes on the two as he snacks and drinks at a table the Foxes have all but written their name on, no one but the Trojans daring to join them. Kevin and Knox talk about swordplay and Court politics at Andrew’s side and Andrew watches Fox and Bird keep to fruits and water.

Eventually, all three Trojans are at the Foxhole table, along with Aaron, Katelyn, and Renee. Andrew’s ended up next to Knox, quietly eating and sipping at his drink. Alvarez’s talking to Renee about something or another and Dermott is in deep, gesticulating conversation with Katelyn, Aaron somewhat paying attention but mostly focused on his own food.

Andrew watches the hall and eats sweet pastries. His eyes keep being drawn to the Evermore pair. With Fox being so red, he was basically a beacon, even amongst the glamorless Fae and elaborate dresses, suits, and masks. He loses sight of them when Dermott calls for his attention to settle something about which Court had won some tournament or another last season since Kevin was off with someone on the dance floor.

It grows darker outside until sundown is officially signaled by magic lighting the sconces and lanterns in the banquet hall, casting warm gold and orange tinged lights across the room. The band quiets and all turn to face the doors to the hall. Bee opens the doors and steps through, behind her Abby and Wymack stand hand in hand in matching masks of gold and a medley of yellow topaz and blue lapis gems. Wymack’s covers the upper half of his face, the rough cut stones creating a tribal flame pattern that matches the ink on his arms. Abby’s is more delicate with the gems held in place by gold and silver wires manipulated to look like lace.

Bee leads the two down the hall as everyone else parted to create a path to the dais. When they reach it, Bee steps to the side, going towards the bar, and Abby and Wymack ascend the dais and stand in front of the thrones, Abby before the silver and Wymack before the gold. Bee returns with two glasses of gold wine and hands them off to the two.

They hold their glasses in their free hands and Wymack clears his throat. “Ah, welcome to the Foxhole Court, may your own Courts remain prosperous under the sun, moon, and stars, follow the endless currents of rivers and the seas, and be graced by the leaves of the Mother Tree. Thank you for coming to celebrate mine and Abby’s engagement.” He pauses and looks to Abby, who smiles up at him. Even with the mask, Andrew see’s Wymack’s expression soften before he turns back to address his Court and guests. “Foxhole has gone through some sh—er, a lot over the past year. We took in one, who turned out to be my son, and we lost one. And, ah. Shit, just, I hate speeches. I’m getting married and Foxhole’s getting a queen that all of you better respect, don’t like it? Then get the fuck out. Enjoy the food and drink, dance your feet or equivalent to ruin, find yourself a soulmate, all of the above, whatever. We’ve got two nights of this.”

While there’s general shocked silence, Foxhole cheers loud enough it doesn’t matter, Matt and Nicky making the most noise with Dan whistling at a pitch that makes the more hearing-sensitive guests wince. The band starts up again and couples and groups return to the dance floor. Abby and Wymack dance at the center, slow and close together. Aaron and Katelyn go up as well, as do Dermott and Alvarez, Nicky and some bird-type Fae, Allison and Renee, Kevin and some sorceress, and Matt and Dan. Andrew remains at the table with Knox. It’s not often that he’s alone with the sun elf, typically the latter is with Kevin if their Courts are visiting, or he’s with at least one of the Alvarez and Dermott pair.

“Not dancing?” Knox asks.

Andrew casts him a brief glance. “Are you?”

Knox laughs. “Touché. If you scowled less there’s definitely a girl or two who’d jump at the chance to dance with Foxhole’s infamous sorcerer. In fact, there’s definitely a few who want to be the one that melts your stone cold heart.”

Andrew circles his finger against the rim of his empty glass. Inside, mist swirls and gathers, a sharp icicle taking shape.

“Or not, I was just saying!” Knox quickly backpedals. Andrew only continues to run his finger around the glass. The shard of ice growing, the tip impossibly filed into a needle-sharp point. From experience, should he so desire, a little longer and it could fly across the room and pin a grown man to the wall, piercing skin and veins and muscle with the wave of his hand.

Knox inches away, but something distracts him from Andrew’s thinly veiled threat. Andrew follows his gaze and catches sight of the false fox and his grey raven companion not too far off. They’re crowded against a wall by two men, broad and tall, one with a serpent mask that matched his scaled arms and the other with a pair of ram-like horns growing from his forehead. Fox stands in front of Bird, his stance protective, defensive, readying to strike. Scales reaches a hand out and says something that has Bird flinching back and Fox baring his teeth. Teeth that look a little sharper, a little longer, than they should be.

Andrew lets the icicle dissipate, filling his glass with cold water. He only pays half a mind to Knox following him.

As they near, Andrew catches the end of Scales’ proposition of him and his friend taking good care of one or both of Fox and Bird.

“For such a joyous occasion there doesn’t seem to be much merry making here,” Andrew interrupts, grin manic. He steps in between Fox and Scales.

Knox comes up beside him. “Is there a problem here, gentlemen?”

There’s a moment where Andrew watches Scales and Horns debate on fighting or backing off. Unfortunately, they choose the latter, scoffing, making some remark or another of prissy bitches to patch up their precious sense of masculinity.

Andrew watches them until they disappear off into the crowd before turning to Fox and Bird. Knox’s already all gentle smiles and soft-toned, as if coaxing a wounded animal into his arms.

“They didn’t do anything did they?”

Bird shakes his head. “No.” But his lie is visible in the way he rubs his arm. Andrew watches Fox take in the action and the tense set of his mouth, hands clenched at his side.

Bird looks to his Courtmate and shakes his head again. “I’m fine. Thank you for the assistance.” He says it stiffly, too polite, dismissive.

Knox, ever oblivious and all too giving, asks, “Would you two like to join us? Knowing their type, they’ll come back.”

Knox flashes his golden smile that few are resistant to. Typically one is either charmed into agreeing with him or are so blinded by the sheer amount of disgustingly radiant goodness he oozes they follow him like a moth to a flame. Bird lands in the latter, for the most part. He appears confused, taken aback, and almost dazed enough to blindly follow Knox’ lead. Knox offers his arm but Bird snaps out of whatever daze Knox’s presence put him in and he walks ahead. Knox seems stunned for a moment before he hurries to catch up, leaving Andrew with Fox.

“Wymack doesn’t want any issues to worry Abby. Will there be issues?” Andrew asks, meeting Fox’s chilling blue eyes.

Fox scowls. “Only if idiots do idiotic things.”

Surprised, surprisingly pleased, Andrew finds his mouth wanting to twitch into a smile. He squashes the urge and nods. “If idiots do idiotic things they’ll find themselves dealt with.”

Andrew takes a victory in surprising Fox with his response, watching blue eyes widen behind the fox mask and bitten lips parting. He looks away, finds Knox pulling out a chair for Bird only for Bird to pull out his own chair.

Andrew returns to take his seat and doesn’t react to Fox taking the chair left between himself and Bird.

The two converse in French briefly before Knox asks after them. “Have you both been to France?”

Bird appears hesitant but Fox easily replies, “I haven’t. He’s a French bastard though.”

Bird scoffs. “And he’s a British devil.”

Fox simply shrugs and leans back in the chair. Andrew pops the last of his bite-sized pastries into his mouth, wiping away the dusting of powdered sugar and flaky crumbs left behind. Silently, he takes up his paper plate intending on a refill and Knox, eternal host even in a Court not his own, asks if either Fox or Bird want anything.

“I’ll grab something for us,” Fox answers. He turns to Bird, they trade sentences in French and Fox joins Andrew on his quick trek to treats, catching up halfway.

“That’s Jeremy Knox, isn’t it,” Fox says, standing beside Andrew as Andrew loads up on more pastries and Fox picks at an assortment of fruit kebabs.

Andrew steals a fruit filled skewer from Fox’s plate and eats the strawberry slice speared at the top. “Where’s your masquerade spirit?” he says mirthlessly. Fox glares at him for the theft but picks out another kebab to replace the stolen one.

“What, you participate in the superstitions and traditions of the whole thing? You don’t seem the type.”

“And what type do I seem then, Fox?”

Blue eyes gaze back at him, assessing. His mouth twists into a smirk. “Trouble. You are of Foxhole, aren’t you.”

“I could say the same for Evermore birds and wannabe foxes.”

Fox grins and his teeth are razors. There’s a number of Fae he could be. A number of kinds of other that makes up the power the wards had prickled against.

“My, what big teeth you have,” Andrew muses.

Blue eyes light up in amusement. “All the better to eat…these treats with.” He takes one of the smaller pastries off Andrew’s plate and bit into it, the flaky pastry layers crunching, crumbs licked away by a pink tongue.

“You should have worn a wolf mask, Fox.”

Fox shrugs. “Maybe, but a fox seemed fitting for masquerades held by this Court.”

“Would you have worn a wooden horse mask then if Trojan Court were the hosting?”

A laugh comes from Fox, short, almost startled, as if he hadn’t known he was going to make the noise. But he shakes his head. “That would send certain messages. And I don’t know that my Courtmate would allow me to wear such a thing if I could even find it.”

“Speaking of.” Andrew looks over to their table and said Courtmate seems to have earned the gesticulating exuberance of sunshine incarnate. “You might want to save him from Captain Sunshine.”

“More like you might want to save Knox from my friend.”

Andrew snags a few more sweets to add to his pile, contentedly licking his fingers of powdered sugar. “Sunshine isn’t my problem.”

“But blood in your banquet hall would be.”

Fox is right about that, annoyingly enough. With a sigh, Andrew heads back to the table just to make sure that Knox didn’t earn the ire of whatever kind of half-Fae Bird is. When he gets close enough to hear the contents of Knox and Bird’s discussion, he almost turns right back around.

He’s apparently cursed to be surrounded by sword junkies.

Knox’s waxing about types of blades, basically repeating his points from his earlier talks with Kevin but with a new soundboard with differing opinions.

“Any monkey can be given the finest blade and told how to thrust and parry,” Bird argues. “As seen with those brutes from Jackal Court. Swordsmanship requires more than swinging a piece of metal willy-nilly like some infant octopus learning how to use its limbs. I can beat a monkey with a sword without landing a single blow from my own blade with a few quick steps.”

Beside him, Fox sighs, muttering under his breath, “Oh boy.”

“Really?” Knox encourages, leaning forward on the table. Neither he nor Bird notice Andrew and Fox’s approach, the two wrapped up in their own little discussion. At the very least it appears Bird is focused solely on his argument whereas Andrew wouldn’t be so sure Knox was so devoted. The Trojan’s body was lax but attentive, facing Bird and a soft smile on his mouth. Behind his sunburst mask, his eyes seemed to have a tendency to stray downwards, lining up around where Bird’s scowling mouth is.

Bird huffs. “Of course. I don’t know what they practice in their Court. Even Foxhole has questionable fighters. Some, I will admit have talent but it’s _wasted_. And all those fools who attend tournaments claiming they can do better, but in a ring stand in one place and swinging an ill-weighted sword around as if they’re trying to hit a piñata at a child’s birthday party.”

Paused just shy of coming close enough that the two would notice them and inevitably draw the two into their conversation for more opinions or likely just more ears to hammer into, Fox leans closer to Andrew and whispers, “If you don’t want to hear him berate the new season’s rookies I would suggest leaving them be. Captain Sunshine, as you call him, seems to be able to fend for himself.”

Andrew has no desire to sit through such a thing. Without a word he turns and makes for the doors leading out into the gardens, but not before he hears Knox say, “So you’re into fancy footwork, then? Does that extend to a dance?”

Curious, Andrew glances over his shoulder and sees Bird pause, stunned, before Knox’s offered hand, but as a couple disrupts his view, Andrew thinks he sees Bird move to take it.

Fox doesn’t have to follow him, but keeps in step and walks with Andrew through the gardens. While most in attendance are inside the banquet hall enjoying the music, food, and dancing, some have ventured into the quieter outdoors with drinks in hand. Groups, couples, and the few individuals taking a breather from the festivities wander and chat under cheap fairy lights and lounge by the fountains or flowering trees and bushes. Andrew walks past it all until he comes to the edge of the gardens, a little alcove that’s more or less secluded behind an aged tree wide enough two long-limbed people wouldn’t be able to have their fingertips meet around it. Matt and Nicky have tried in the past, a few too many drinks in.

Andrew slides down to sit between thick roots holding the tree to the ground, settling with his back against the cool wood and works on clearing his plate of sweets. Fox stands by him for a moment before he folds his feet underneath him and sits in the grass next to Andrew, lower back resting back against one of the larger gnarled tree roots. He slides a grape off a fruit skewer and pops it into his mouth.

They’re silent as they eat. Andrew listens to the sounds of people around them, the faded music from the banquet hall, sudden bursts of laughter and shrieks of inebriated clumsiness. Amongst the delicate coverage of leaves and flowers and flowing water, muffled voices still break through here and there, if one listens closely. While there are rooms for all the guests, for the quick trysts inevitable at any sort of mass gathering providing liquor with the air of romance to twist love into lust, the gardens provided perfect patches of flimsy privacy for brief encounters.

Fox seems to hear the attempts – some poor, some not even trying – at quiet pleasure. His mouth purses, what little of his nose that can be seen under the painted fox nose wrinkles and Andrew finds himself wondering how the expression looks in full, without the stupid orange obstruction.

“No one’s had sex here, have they?” Fox asks.

Andrew shrugs. “Do you mean tonight or ever, because I’m sure Dan and Matt have been up to things by every tree in Foxhole.”

“The sylph and the dryad,” Fox nods. He sets aside his plate of sticky, too-long wooden toothpicks. “Odd, but Foxhole is nothing if not odd. And what are you?”

Andrew grins sharp and wide. “Now that would be telling. This is a masquerade, Fox, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Really? I thought your face was just like that.” Blue eyes roll before they meet Andrew’s gaze, dropping and lingering when Andrew licks his lips. “What is your face like then?”

“What part of masquerade don’t you understand, Fox?”

The grin Fox presents is mischievous, wily and far too well suited for his stupid mask. “Despite the mask I’m not actual a fox, you know.”

“No, you’re a menace,” Andrew retorts. A menace and trouble, Andrew could feel it in his bones. There was something dangerous about the man, but danger wasn’t always a deterrent, even if it should be. Desire and instinct didn’t always go hand in hand and Andrew can’t help but imagine how that snarky mouth would feel under his. “Frenchy latched onto Captain Sunshine to see if he could pawn you off onto someone else for the night, didn’t he?”

Fox shrugs. “Knox is anything but inconspicuous and my Courtmate’s a fan of his, though he’ll never admit it. I could have stayed in the hall.” He shifts, stretching his legs out. Even though Fox is short, the sprawl of his legs makes them look long against the darkened grass. “I thought following you would be interesting.”

Andrew measures Fox with an even gaze. The man’s hair is a wild tangle of red curls that would feel great around fingers, easy to comb through and pull at. His eyes, not the deep blue like the ocean but the frosted top of a lake in winter hiding whatever lurks in its depths. And his mouth, full lips that spilled cutting barbs and cocky snark, curved into a smirk that Andrew didn’t know if he wanted to punch or bite off his face.

Fox reaches out to Andrew’s mostly cleaned off plate. All that’s left is a few bites of pastry and thin slices of cake. Andrew goes to smack the thieving hand away but Fox is quick and snags a piece of pastry, popping it into his mouth with a grin.

“That was mine,” Andrew glares.

Fox swallows and licks his fingers. “You eat too much sugar.” He moves, reaching for a second sweet but Andrew catches his wrist, pinning the sticky-fingered hands to the ground, and bringing Fox that much closer.

Fox licks his lips, looks up through hidden lashes at Andrew and Andrew leans closer. “Hands either off me or on my shoulders,” he says before pressing into that thieving, smirking, maddening mouth.

Fox falls into the kiss like he’s taking down whoever pushed him with him. His hand still held to the ground under Andrew’s clenches in the grass. His other hand comes up and grips Andrew’s shoulder, twisting the fabric of Andrew’s shirt, pulling himself closer as he makes a low rumbling moan from his throat.

Even with so many strangers, so many dangers in his home, Andrew feels some of the tension in his shoulders melt into arousal. There’s some sort of irony in the fact that he feels this way with someone from Evermore, the most dangerous and suspicious of the guests invading Foxhole. But Fox’s mouth gives to Andrew’s, and there was a flash of understanding at Andrew setting boundaries in those blue eyes before they closed as Andrew nipped his plush bottom lip.

Kissing with masks is awkward. But Andrew manages nipping bites to full lips, tasting fruit and stolen pastry and a subtle spice that is unique to the Evermore fox. Andrew slides his hand up through Fox’s hair, his fingers meet the orange band holding his mask in place. Rough fabric stretches over a finger that he slides under it. It pulls with Andrew’s finger, but not without Andrew putting in some effort, the elastic encased inside still stiff from lack of use. He releases the band and it thwacks against Fox’s skull.

“Ow, what the fuck?” Fox complains, pulling back, scowling at Andrew.

“Where’s your accent if you’re a British devil?”

Fox’s brows rise barely coming up beyond the top of his mask. “Is now really the time to question my accent?”

“What time is it, then, Mr. Fox,” Andrew murmurs.

Fox’s mouth curves into a smile, amused at first but quickly melting into something not so light and far from innocent. “Just shy of midnight,” he murmurs, and ask and you shall receive appears to be the case with the man in his arms. Vowels rounded, voice dropping into a deeper rumble – although if that was for the accent or for Andrew’s benefit Andrew couldn’t tell.

Andrew rolls them over, pushing Fox onto the ground, bracketing Fox’s body between his knees and elbows, crawling backwards until he’s hovering over Fox’s pants. The jostling rode up Fox’s shirt, bearing the tender brown skin of his waist, a hint of jutting hip bones peeking out from over his low slung pants.

“What are you doing?” Fox breathes, rising up on his elbows.

“Blowing you,” Andrew responds. He looks up, meets Fox’s blue, so chillingly blue, eyes. “Any arguments?”

Fox, mouth parted in surprise, shakes his head. Heat rises to his cheeks, tinting them a faint red. “Not at all.” His thighs fall apart, legs parting to allow Andrew to settle in the offered cradle of skin hugging pants, fabric molded to the curve of his calves and taut against the back of his thighs.

Andrew makes quick work of the buttons of Fox’s pants, tugging them down enough to reveal the shape of Fox’s cock pressing against his underwear. Andrew leans down and mouths at it, tasting cotton and feeling the hidden heat underneath. Fox groans quietly above him. Andrew looks up to Fox staring at him openly. Winter day ice melted, revealing a hint of the darkened depths it hid.

When Andrew pulls Fox’s cock free, Fox hisses as Andrew wraps his hand around it, rubs the head wet with pre-come.

“Hands don’t touch me and hips stay on the ground,” Andrew tells him. He waits for Fox to breathe a husky “Okay” before fixing his hands at Fox’s hips and wrapping his mouth around that scorching, slick, velvet heat.

Fox tenses up under his hands, but he does as said and doesn’t thrust up into Andrew’s mouth, leaving Andrew free to lick and suck at his cock to his own rhythm. He moves slowly, taking lingering licks up the length and mouthing at the head. While Andrew works Fox’s length, above him, Fox has fallen back to the ground, one hand ripping up grass at his side and the other brought up to his mouth, muffling the sounds Andrew’s pulls from him. Andrew didn’t know what he expected, but he finds pleasured surprise in learning that Fox doesn’t seem to be a quiet affair. With the mouth he has on him, maybe it’s not that much of a surprise.

Andrew relishes in the tense muscles under his fingertips. As he sucks on Fox’s cock, his hands smooth against warm skin, over quivering muscles that strain to stay still. His thumbs rub over Fox’s hip bones and slide lower beneath the waistband of Fox’s underwear, skimming over the soft, paler skin.

Andrew wishes they were somewhere else, somewhere where he could pull Fox’s ridiculously tight pants to his ankles and bite and suck at the tender underside of his thighs, nip the crease, make Fox squirm and struggle to keep his voice down even more so than he currently is.

When Fox comes, it’s not hard to miss, regardless of Andrew swallowing down his release. Fox groans behind his hand, the one in the grass white-knuckles into ripped up grass and digs into dirt. Under Andrew’s hands, he tenses trying to keep from rocking up into Andrew’s mouth and Andrew keeps him pinned down.

Andrew pulls off and wipes his mouth, sitting up. Fox stays sprawled in the grass, chest heaving, cock softening. His eyes are closed, a red flush visible on his neck and creeping under his mask. When he manages to sit up, he runs a hand through his hair littered with grass and dirt, but only ends up adding more grass and dirt since it was the hand that had been clenched and clawing at the ground. His other hand is reddened with bite marks, deep indents in the skin. Andrew takes his hand, and Fox allows him, watching as Andrew brings the hand to his mouth and nip at the already abused flesh.

“Ouch,” Fox grimaces, pulling his hand away. He wipes his hands on his pants and tucks himself back in, fixing his clothes as best he can. It’s somewhat of a futile effort, it’s obvious from grass stains and his general disheveled appearance that he’s been up to less than innocent deeds under fairy lights and overgrown trees.

Andrew polishes off the last of his sweets and gets to his feet.

“What about you?” Fox asks.

“I’m fine.”

Fox looks pointedly at the tenting at Andrew’s crotch. Andrew flings his cleared plate at Fox, aiming for his face. Unfortunately, Fox’s quick reflexes come into play and he manages to catch it before it hits him, but Andrew’s already walking away, ignoring whatever insult Fox calls out after him. Instead of going back to the banquet hall, he heads back to his room, decidedly not thinking about fox-masked individuals and how there was another night to go.

* * *

Foxhole is quiet and groggy until after noon, most huddled in bed or bent over toilets cursing daylight and sobriety. Those that didn’t over indulge were in better shape, mingling mask-less and helping themselves to the buffet-style brunch offered in the banquet hall. A few took their meals into the gardens while others sat around at the tables indoors. Matt and Dan, incredibly hungover, were being looked after by a fresh-faced Renee at a table with Katelyn. Aaron was probably still asleep. Nicky wouldn’t be stumbling out of his room for a while yet. The Trojans had gotten a table for themselves and Kevin. While Dermott appeared fine, the same couldn’t be said for her Courtmates or Kevin. Knox, while not appearing as hungover as Alvarez or Kevin, looks a different brand of miserable. His gaze flits about the room, mostly focused on the main doors, watching every person that came in, clearly searching and not finding who he’s looking for.

Andrew goes straight for the pancakes, drowning his stack in maple syrup and adding a liberal amount of whipped cream in a large layered swirl on top. He turns to go find wherever Allison had put the coffee station and finds it down the end of the aligned tables. There’s one man making himself a cup of tea, about as tall as Andrew, curly brown hair, and soft looking full lips stretching into a yawn. When Andrew makes his coffee, doctoring it with enough sugar there’s a substantial difference in the container of sugar left out, the brunet makes an appalled noise.

Andrew glances at the other man. His eyes, shades darker than his hair, are narrowed in a grimace, and his nose, slightly crooked from a break that didn’t heal quite right, wrinkles, mouth pursing.

“Something crawl up your nose and die?” Andrew drawls.

“How have you not given everyone around you diabetes by association,” the man says, staring at Andrew’s maple syrup and whipped cream with a side of pancakes. The brunet’s plate on the other hand holds a more balanced if minimal meal of plain toast, eggs, a few slices of ham, and a pile of chopped fruits.

Instead of replying, Andrew mixes another spoonful of sugar and takes a measured sip of his coffee-drowned sugar. It tastes great.

“Why not just cut out the middleman and drink the sugar straight.”

“Let me know when they’ve combined caffeine into sugar so your delicate sensibilities can be saved.” Mockingly raising his coffee in a salute, Andrew turns away and decides to sit with Kevin and the Trojans if only to not deal with Aaron’s nosy girlfriend and Renee’s annoying perceptiveness.

He’d still been up when the last of the guests and Foxhole residents stumbled into rooms. In the late hours tired of lying in bed unable to sleep, he’d gone to the roof for a smoke, not looking for a fox masked individual making his way to a room, whether that was his own or someone else’s. He didn’t happen to see anyone of certain descriptions. Instead, Renee had come to see how he was holding up to all the other Courts in their territory under the guise of bidding him good night. She’d noticed his absence with Fox but was smart enough not to say anything. She had left him to finish his cigarette and Andrew fell into his bed not long after, dreaming of green leaves and brown twigs in tangles of red hair.

He plops down beside Kevin, whose head is ducked into his folded arms, a plate of half-eaten eggs, bacon, and toast pushed to the side.

“Morning, Andrew” Dermott greets. Andrew slices a slightly too large to be bite-sized portion of his pancakes and digs in.

From a similar position as Kevin, Alvarez rolls her head on the table and groans. “How are you so…alive?”

Dermott strokes Alvarez’s hair, smiling down at her girlfriend. “Because I didn’t have a drinking competition with an orc and win.”

“I don’t feel like I won anything,” Alvarez groans. She tilts her face into Dermott’s hand, the furrow in her brow smoothing and a soft sigh escaping her lips.

Knox watches them briefly before fixing his gaze back to the doors. Dermott sighs.

“Jer, you don’t even know what he looks like. You could have walked past him and been none the wiser.”

“I’d know it was him,” Knox insisted. “We were together basically all night until we went to bed. And if I somehow don’t find him, he’ll probably be with his Courtmate. There’s no way to miss his friend’s red hair.”

So Knox was pining after Frenchy. Andrew glances to the doors. Knox isn’t wrong, it’ll be hard to hide that shock of red-orange curls. Along with his ice blue eyes, Fox is far from inconspicuous.

“And I’m not the only one looking for someone from last night,” Knox says. “Andrew went off with his Courtmate. I bet you want to see him maskless. You guys never came back.”

“I’m surprised you noticed anyone other than Frenchy,” Andrew says. So Fox didn’t go back to the banquet hall after their rendezvous.

Knox flushes and Dermott teases him. Apparently she and Alvarez had caught Knox and his mystery man in some stage of intimacy after they’d torn themselves away from the dance floor.

“How do your feet even work, Jer,” Alvarez asks. She sits up but leans into Dermott, their chairs pushed close together. “You and your boy danced like, hours.”

Knox pokes at his waffles. “I didn’t realize. I just. We got talking. And his eyes, I’ve never seen grey eyes like his before. And when I got him to laugh, it just. And I don’t even know his name,” he groans. “Just that he’s from Evermore.”

Kevin’s head shoots up, startling the Trojans. His panicked gaze goes to Andrew. “You were with a redhead from Evermore?”

“You know him?” Andrew asks back.

Kevin runs his hand through his hair. He touches the tattoo under his eye, what used to be the number two now a chess piece. “Were his eyes blue? Did he, did he smell like blood?”

No, Fox had smelled like heat and arousal and dirt and spice. “Who is he, Kevin.”

“Nathaniel Wesninski. He was, bought by the Moriyamas. He was supposed to be Ichirou’s but Riko stole him, made him 3. His father was the Butcher of Baltimore and his mother was a Hatford.”

The Butcher of Baltimore was a familiar name if only because he was infamous to both Fae and humans alike, though for different reasons. Where to humans he was a bloodthirsty psychopath with deep pockets and slippery connections, to the Fae he was a vicious monster, the worst sort of Redcap, leashed by the Moriyamas but with a long lead, at least until he had tried to betray them and it cost his life and sublet empire. Fox being half Redcap explains the flashes of razor sharp teeth and the striking red of his hair. The Hatfords, from what Andrew could recall, were a mob family from England. A family of witches and warlocks and sorcerers all versed in magics of blood and bone and death. Nathaniel Wesninski came from quite the bloodline.

“Is he going to be a problem?”

Kevin shakes his head. “He was stubborn, an idiot really. He stood up to Riko, usually to protect Jean. He’s valuable to the family so even though Riko stole him, he couldn’t do… irreparable damage. Nathaniel helped me when I—back then.”

As long as Fox, _Nathaniel_ , didn’t cause any trouble, at least more trouble than lingering in Andrew’s mind, Andrew had no reason to deal with the redhead. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to keep an eye out for him while he and his Courtmate were in Foxhole.

Knox pesters Kevin about Nathaniel’s Courtmate, trying to get clues to find his masked man, who was likely one Jean Moreau, Nathaniel’s partner in the same way Kevin and Riko were partners, although Nathaniel had protected Moreau during Riko’s tyranny of Evermore. Andrew takes his leave, having no desire to hear more pining and tosses his trash before snagging a muffin and going to the roof for a smoke.

The roof, however, isn’t empty as it should be. Of all the people, the prissy brunet with the crooked nose sat on the edge of the rooftop. He turns at Andrew’s approach and considers Andrew’s muffin.

“You must be upset they didn’t have cupcakes.”

Andrew sits down just far enough away from the brunet. “Heartbroken,” he deadpans and starts on his muffin. It tastes like apple pie, filled with soft chunks of spiced apple. One of Bee’s recipes. He finishes it in a few quick bites and lays the crumb-coated wrapper to the side while he fishes out his lighter and a cigarette. He’s aware of the brunet watching him, able to see him just at the edge of his vision. So Andrew sees him gather up his legs to his chest, cross his arms over his knees and rest his cheek on them, facing Andrew.

Andrew otherwise ignores him and settles into each inhale and exhale of fire and smoke and nicotine. “If you want a smoke get your own,” he says through a puff of smoke.

“Do I know you?”

Andrew lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know you.”

“Neil.”

“Didn’t ask.” Andrew flicks ash onto the muffin wrapper.

Neil blinks and nods, a hint of a smile on his full, bitten lips. “True. Just trying to be friendly. I guess I picked the wrong person.”

“I bleed for you.” Andrew isn’t aware of what’s so amusing about his statement, but Neil’s mouth curves into a smirk of a grin, something mischievous and knowing where Andrew is lacking information. He almost wants to punch it off Neil’s face, but he also wants to explore it with his own mouth. Andrew narrows his eyes, observing the man next to him. “So what Court threw you up?”

Neil shakes his head. “I can’t tell you that.” He grins, it’s cheeky and tempting. “Where’s your masquerade spirit?” A faint flush rises to his cheeks and his brown eyes darken. He’s not looking at Andrew though, instead glancing down to where the gardens lay spread below them.

Andrew keeps his face blank. “And you believe the superstitions and traditions?”

“No,” Neil shrugs, “but there may be some merit to them. At the very least, there’s… something interesting about it all.” When Andrew doesn’t respond, Neil ventures, “What about you?”

Andrew scoffs and that’s more than enough of an answer. It may have worked out for Nicky but it remains to be seen how it will turn out for Knox falling for someone from Evermore. A traitorous part of Andrew’s mind thinks about his own dalliance with Evermore, his gaze lingering on Neil.

Taking a deep draw from his cigarette and releasing a stream of smoke, Andrew removes his cigarette from his mouth and waves it towards Neil. “Shouldn’t you be with your Courtmate?”

Neil rolls his eyes, but it’s out of fondness from the smile at his mouth. “He’s hiding and in denial. Like you, he doesn’t care for masquerade fairytales, but…” Neil grins. “Teasing him is going to be fun after all this is over.”

They don’t speak after that. Andrew burns through his cigarette and Neil stares out over Foxhole hugging his knees. As the day wears on, people mingle without masks, greeting faces they recognize and trying to guess what masks had covered them the night before. Andrew sees the Trojans and Kevin leave the banquet hall. If he had to guess, Andrew would bet that the junkies were off to spar in the parts of the woods where Kevin trains at ridiculous hours in the night.

“Trojan Court may be known for their kindness and good will, but Foxhole is the last Court you’d think they’d be so close to,” Neil muses.

When Andrew looks over, he sees the brunet watching the four below. Kevin splits off from the Trojans, heading in the direction of where his room is, and the Trojans head to where their room for the masquerades is located. Definitely off to fetch their swords for a few bouts.

“Makes you wonder if they’re not all sunshine as everyone believes.” Neil turns and meets Andrew’s gaze, holding it, almost like a challenge.

“Maybe.” Andrew says, noncommittal. Alvarez hangs onto Knox, she says something that has Dermott laughing and Knox trying to duck away, head bowed as if he’s trying to hide.

“There doesn’t seem to be any negative rumors about Captain Sunshine, at least.”

Andrew rolls his eyes. “Knox takes what he is more seriously than most. I’d say it was a sun elf thing, but I’ve met sun elves.” Pricks were elitist assholes. Most elves were, supposed embodiments of sun rays or not. Even the darker cousins had that nose-in-the-air prissy vibe. Knox on the other hand tried far too hard, but he was sincere. Andrew will give him that for what it’s worth.

“Hmm.” While doesn’t say anything, Neil continues to watch the Trojans, watch Knox, until they’re out of sight.

“If you’re after him, you’ll have to get in line. Someone beat you to him last night.”

“What?” Neil looks to Andrew, face a picture of startled confusion before he seems to register Andrew’s words. Then he laughs, bright and loud, shaking his head. “No. Just. No. I’m not at all. I did hear he danced all night with one person.”

“Heard? Didn’t see him? He’s hard to miss, masked or not.”

Neil shakes his head. “No, I, uh. I wasn’t paying attention to him.”

Andrew gets to his feet, picking up his trash. Neil stays on the ledge but cranes his neck up to watch him. He doesn’t say anything and neither does Andrew as Andrew leaves the rooftop, but Andrew feels those brown eyes on him even after the rooftop door shuts soundly behind him.

* * *

Like he’d suspected, Kevin and the Trojans are in a small clearing in the woods just behind the banquet hall. Training dummies Kevin had set up were shoved against trees as Kevin and Knox sparred in the available space. Alvarez and Dermott sit together against a tree, Alvarez all but in Dermott’s lap, their arms around each other as they criticized both Knox and Kevin. They wave at Andrew’s approach while the boys focus on not being skewered. Knox’s face is stern in concentration and Kevin’s is as blank as usual. Both of them are flushed with light layers of sweat coating their skin and darkening their clothes.

Knox manages to parry a blow but Kevin doesn’t let up and goes for another strike. Where Kevin is known for his precision and strength, Knox has slippery footwork. Often it seems like he’s dancing instead of dodging and diving. They trade blows and misses until Kevin gains the upper hand and Knox cranes his neck back so Kevin’s blade doesn’t pierce his throat.

Alvarez and Dermott clap and heckle as Kevin and Knox shake hands.

“I’m looking forward to the next tournament,” Knox says. He turns to wave at Andrew. “Hey, want to spar?”

Andrew curls his lip but otherwise ignores the offer. To Kevin, he says, “Tell me everything you know about Nathaniel Wesninski.”

* * *

Night two is decidedly more club-esque and much more in tune to Foxhole. Pink, purple, orange, and blue lighting juxtaposed against the formal attire, and music blasted through speakers instead of from a live, acoustic band. While some of the more traditional Courts that hadn’t stepped into the mortal world in the last hundred years seemed out of place and vacated to the gardens, the younger generations and the few ancients who embraced the advancements of time instead of sniffing their nose – or equivalent organ – took to the faster, sweatier pace.

Andrew leans against a wall, watching in a way that’s closer to looking. Kevin didn’t have much more to say about Nathaniel and Evermore than he’d already said or that Andrew knew or could piece together.

Knox had found Moreau, or rather Moreau found Knox. Even under his gray mask, it was easy to tell the Frenchman was flushed pink. Knox stuttered and fumbled his words too much to coherently ask for another dance, but Moreau either took pity on the elf or was just impatient and pulled the Trojan by the hand. They were easy to spot amongst other dancing couples, holding each other close enough to be just shy of kissing as they talked and swayed to the music, Knox beaming and Moreau smiling like he was unused to the expression but found it pleasant.

But his Courtmate was nowhere to be seen, even when numerous attendees have given up on pretenses and gone back to their rooms – or some place that gave the illusion of privacy – for last masquerade night affairs. Even Abby and Wymack have slipped away.

Andrew’s itching for a smoke and is about to go up to the roof to indulge when he finally sees a flash of red in the crowd. Nathaniel and his stupid fox mask. When their eyes meet Nathaniel smiles but makes no move to join Andrew. Instead, he continues walking, only turning to look over his shoulder and smiling wider when Andrew follows him.

They end up back in the garden, back where they’d been the night before. Nathaniel tries to take the spot against the tree but Andrew kicks at him.

“Shoo,” he says. Nathaniel grumbles but he shifts and Andrew claims his spot. Before he settles fully, he pulls out his almost empty pack of cigarettes and his lighter. Nathaniel has no reaction other than watching Andrew light the stick and take a drag. When Andrew breathes out, Nathaniel closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Andrew raises a brow.

“My mother smoked,” Nathaniel answers. “I like the smell. It’s… comforting.”

Silently, Andrew offers the stick. Nathaniel wordlessly takes it, but he’s smiling about something. He doesn’t put it to his lips immediately, instead watching Andrew, considering.

“Something to say, Fox?”

He finally takes a draw from the stick. “I thought you’d know my name by now.”

“Nathaniel.” Andrew watches what he can see of Nathaniel’s face that isn’t obstructed by the ridiculous fox mask. Where his face remains blank, his shoulders are tense. “Let’s play a game.”

Nathaniel frowns at him. “This isn’t like that human movie is it? Jean made me watch one once.”

“No, for now. Truth for a truth.”

“What if I don’t want to answer?” Nathaniel breathes out a trail of smoke.

“Then don’t. I’ll ask another question, but no lies. The same goes for you.”

Nathaniel takes another drag, considering, but nods as he passes over the stick. “Okay. But you know my name and I don’t know yours.”

“That your question?” Andrew asks, and Nathaniel nods. “Joseph.”

Nathaniel tilts his head. “You don’t look like a Joseph.”

“It’s my middle name. Telling you my first would just give everything away,” Andrew blows smoke at Nathaniel’s face. “What are you?”

“Redcap and blood witch,” Nathaniel answers. “But you already know that.”

“I knew you were part Redcap. Kevin didn’t know the other half.”

Something flickers in Nathaniel’s eyes at the mention of his former Courtmate. But it’s gone too fast for Andrew to properly identify, replaced by a stiff smile and tense shrug. “Kevin wasn’t property so we never interacted beyond training and whenever Riko was in a foul mood. My father tried to suppress my mother’s half of me. I didn’t start learning until the Moriyamas had me.”

All of that went in line with what Kevin had said earlier that day. Even though Kevin suffered under Riko’s abuse, he was largely ignorant to certain aspects of Evermore, the aspects Nathaniel and Moreau were tied to. He wasn’t sold to Evermore, just unfortunate enough that his mother was affiliated with Tetsuji and didn’t want to involve Wymack in the Moriyamas’ dirty dealings.

“My turn. What does Knox want with Jean?”

“What makes you think I know anything about Captain Sunshine and his designs on your Courtmate?” Andrew snorts, but Nathaniel waits, crosses his arms over his chest. “He wants to court him. Properly, because he’s a romantic idiot. Why do you glamour yourself during the day?”

Nathaniel blinks in surprise, whether at the abruptness of the question or the question itself Andrew can’t tell. “How do you know that?”

Andrew tuts. “Ah ah. Wait your turn, Nathaniel. But I’ll give you a freebie. Unless you’ve been hiding all day, there hasn’t been any redheaded pests around.”

Nathaniel nods. “I look too much like my father like this. When I don’t have to be Nathaniel, I prefer being someone else.”

If Andrew’s right, and rarely is he wrong, his next question will end this game of theirs if he decides to ask it. There are only a few notes left in their dance.

Nathaniel doesn’t ask his question immediately. He opens his mouth but closes it, reconsidering, or simply just considering. He draws his bottom lip into his mouth, lips thinning.

“I don’t have all night, Nathaniel,” Andrew drawls.

“You have actual plans tonight, then?” Nathaniel retorts.

Andrew grins. “That your question?”

Whatever hang-up Nathaniel had over his question he gets over, scowling at Andrew before what Andrew can see of his expression settles into something curious and hesitant.

“Why are we carrying this game on when you know who I am?”

On the one hand, Andrew was right, it seems. On the other, he can’t tell what Nathaniel wants from him, because everyone wants something. Even if he doesn’t quite know what he wants from Nathaniel.

“I know that sometimes you’re Nathaniel, and sometimes you’re Neil,” Andrew concedes. “What I don’t know is which one is behind this mask. He looks like Nathaniel but who’s actually been behind this mask?” He reaches out and flicks one of the little plastic ears.

“Is that your question?”

Andrew nods.

Andrew takes off Nathaniel’s mask, revealing a faintly freckled face, a broken nose that didn’t heal completely right, and scarring under his eye in the same place Kevin had his tattoo. He ghosts his thumb over the scar tissue. Nathaniel-Neil pushes his face firmly into Andrew’s hand, closing his eyes, but not before Andrew saw them deaden. “You know how Nathan Wesninski met his end. He tried to take what wasn’t his.”

“You haven’t answered. Who’s Nathaniel and who’s Neil?”

“Nathaniel is my father’s son,” he says simply. “He belongs to Evermore and the Moriyamas.”

Andrew, still holding the redhead’s face, leans closer. It’s not much farther to go to catch his mouth. “And Neil?”

“I’m not Nathaniel.” And he closes the distance and kisses Andrew.

It’s a brief but lingering press of mouth to mouth. Andrew’s eyes stay open while Neil’s flutter shut, red lashes fanning freckled cheeks. Before he pulls back completely, his eyes blink open, clear ice blue. He brings his hands up, hovering by Andrew’s face. “May I?”

There’s no point in wearing them anymore so Andrew tilts his head. “Yes.”

Neil’s fingers are calloused and gentle against where they Andrew’ cheeks removing the domino mask. He drops the mask to lie with his own discarded one.

“You were shorter at breakfast,” Neil says, smirking. Andrew pulls Neil’s hair a touch too hard, yanking the redhead’s neck back.

“Very creative with Nathaniel-Neil.”

Neil doesn’t try to escape from Andrew’s hold, keeping his neck bared. Andrew leans close enough his breath brings a shudder through Neil’s body. “I don’t want to call you Joseph.”

“Andrew,” he gives, and nips the available skin. Neil repeats his name in a husky whisper and Andrew lets go of his hair, sliding his hand down to Neil’s neck and bringing him into another kiss. This one is long and lingering. Andrew licks his way into Neil’s readily open mouth, feeling Neil moan and press even closer to him, His hands grasped at the ground and Andrew pulls away long enough to give him permission to touch him from the shoulders and up. Neil’s hands surge up to Andrew’s shoulders not a second later, one slides up to hold Andrew’s cheek.

Kissing is much better without masks.

* * *

They kiss until Andrew’s mouth is bruised and sore. Neil’s hair is a mess from Andrew’s roving hands and Andrew, having allowed Neil to touch him from the shoulders up, was in no better shape.

And then they just talk. Sitting side by side, they continue their game of questions and truths although the questions grow trivial. Neil like fruits and isn’t for sweets. He likes tea over coffee over hot chocolate. When Andrew asks if he can completely shed his human glamour, he has razor sharp teeth and his hair even looks more red, more bloody.

He asks after Andrew’s interests, which forms of swordplay he practices until Andrew threatens to give him a demonstration of decapitation. Then he wants a spectacle of ice that Andrew provides by creating ice cubes at the back of Neil’s neck that slide down his spine and make him startle and squirm. He curses Andrew in German, and Andrew replies in kind. They trade barbs in Spanish, German, English, and then Neil carries on in French and Japanese until Andrew shuts his jabbering mouth with more kisses.

When Neil grows tired, yawning more often and his eyes drooping, Andrew calls it a night. “Feel free to sleep here, I’m going to bed.”

He reaches for his mask, but Neil snatches it up first. “I’ll trade you,” he says, holding Andrew’s mask to his face, covering his mouth with the plastic.

Andrew grimaces at the fox mask, but he picks it up and carries it from the elastic band with his forefinger, spinning the mask. There’s a chance it’ll fly off his finger and fling out into the distance, maybe even Neil’s dumb face, and Andrew would be fine with that.

They walk together in silence until the point where they part. They don’t say goodnight but Neil bites at his already abused lip and Andrew hooks his finger into the collar of Neil’s shirt and tugs gently enough that Neil could pull away if he wanted to, but Neil steps forward as if Andrew’d yanked him and kisses him, firm and lingering. When he’s about to pull away, Neil bites down on Andrew’s lip and pain mixes with lust as Neil breaks skin, drawing a lick of blood that Neil immediately sucks on like the Celtic vampire he is. Andrew doesn’t sense any magic in the act going against his personal defenses but he gathers ice in his palms and Neil shivers from the sudden temperature drop around them.

“What was that?” Andrew asks.

“I like how you taste,” Neil murmurs, licking his lips. Jean was right, the man was a devil. “Goodnight, Andrew.”

“Bye, Fox,” Andrew returns. When he’s back in his room, he hangs the fox mask on his bedpost and stares at the stark orange until he falls asleep.

* * *

Morning comes and with it the Courts take their leave. By the time Andrew is up and out, most Courts have left. The only ones remaining are those that were too hungover to do more than groan from a bed that might not have been theirs.

Evermore Court had left in the early hours of dawn. The only reason Knox wasn’t a moping mess while he and his Courtmates lingered behind while everyone else returned to their Courts was because he’d already gotten a promise to meet with Moreau again, and he was insufferably chatty about how he was going to court the Frenchman. It was worse than Nicky talking about his and Erik’s courting and all that went on before and after.

Andrew escapes to the roof with his dwindling pack of cigarettes and mug of hot chocolate from the kitchen. He sits where he can see the gardens and the tall tree where masks came off and truths and kisses were traded. Neil was long gone but Andrew still tasted echoes of his own blood as he breathed nicotine.

* * *

Almost two weeks go by since the masquerades, since Nathaniel-Neil Wesninski returned to his own Court leaving Andrew with a kiss that tasted of blood. Foxhole is the same as ever except Abby and Wymack walk around with rings on their fingers having gone through a simple human wedding with only Foxhole as witnesses to the private ceremony, Bee officiating. There was plenty of alcohol to go around.

Kevin was training hard for an upcoming tournament and was more persistent about badgering Andrew, much to his annoyance. He’s smoking a cigarette while Kevin practices against a floating ice sword Andrew waves about with barely a thought. Kevin’s about to ask him to create another one, he’s got that confidant look on his sweat slick face and he’s relaxing against the single invisible assailant, when Andrew feels it.

The wards flicker. Someone half Fae and half magic. A familiar darkness.

“Training’s over,” Andrew says. The ice sword drops to the ground in the middle of driving at Kevin who left his right side open to a quick swipe and Andrew gets to his feet. Kevin makes some noise of protest but Andrew ignores him and goes to see who the intruder is, curious if he’s a brunet or a redhead, Neil or Nathaniel.

Neil is in a simple button down and slacks, hands in his pockets, brown hair a mess over brown eyes. When he sees Andrew, his mouth curves into a smile. Andrew keeps his face blank as he comes to a stop, just before the wards, inches away from Neil.

“You’re far from home, little bird. We already took in one broken-winged Evermore runaway.”

“You didn’t hear?” Neil seems surprised.

“Hear what?”

Neil grins. It’s the grin that Andrew will never know if he wants to kiss or punch it away. Maybe bite. He clears his throat and straightens his posture, hands behind his back. It’s like a switch and Andrew knows this is Evermore’s Nathaniel. “On behalf of Lord Moriyama of Evermore Court, in a show of good will to repair damages caused by Lord Moriyama’s wayward brother and uncle, I, Nathaniel Abram Wesninski, am to serve as a liaison between our two Courts. I have a scheduled appointment with King Wymack today to finalize arrangements. May I be allowed entry into Foxhole Court?”

There’s a scripted response he’s supposed to say in return to Neil’s ridiculous spiel, but Andrew’s of Foxhole. He rolls his eyes and waves the wards to bend and give the idiot Evermore _liaison_ entry. Nathaniel sheds almost immediately back into Neil, whose grin resembles the ones of the annoying imps that tend to invade Bee and Renee’s medicinal gardens. Andrew doesn’t step back, and Neil steps into his space, just shy of touching, grinning like the idiot he is.

“How long will you be staying?”

“An allegiance with Evermore will improve Foxhole’s standing and Evermore is undergoing… reorganization due to past mistakes.”

Andrew rolls his eyes. “And Foxhole cares for standings or Evermore trying to clean up after themselves.”

Neil cocks a shoulder. “Then I guess I’ll be here for a while. Evermore’s determined like Foxhole’s stubborn.”


End file.
